Blocked
The cursor mocked him.
It blinked, on, off, on again, a sharp contrast to the vast expanse of white, punctuating the blankness of his word processor. Roxas had to write. It was what he did, and it literally paid his bills. And most days, he had no problem tapping out his goals for the day, and some days, the words ran like water from his mind to his fingertips, until his screen was as much black as it was white.
But today was definitely not one of those days. For nearly a week running, writing had been like pulling teeth.
Writer’s block. It was heavy, a weight on his shoulders, as his deadline grew nearer and nearer. He’d tried nearly everything he could think of. Coffee, his best friend, had failed him, this time. A bit of fresh air on a walk, while refreshing, did nothing. Free writing, and various creative exercises? Nothing.
Roxas rubbed at his eyes. He was due for another break, though he hadn’t managed to do more than tap out a few words. Which he had already deleted in frustration.
He tensed, about to stand, and then a thought flitted across the surface of his mind. A handful of words, and he knew if he let them go, he would lose them for good, so he relaxed back into his chair, fingers punching out the letters. He hesitated, rolling the words around in his head, until there were more words, a slow stream of them, but they were coming, nonetheless.
He eyed the growing word count, though it was still nothing near what he needed. It was little more than filler, so far, but it was a start. He was sure of it.
“Roxas.” Axel’s voice cut through his concentration, the man himself leaning against the door frame.
“Not now, Axel.” Roxas forged on, the tap of the keyboard uneven, but his word processor had actual words on it, now, black filling up the empty white. There was red in his peripheries, Axel’s mess of hair, and green, vivid and focused on Roxas, but he only cared about the black.
“You said you were going to come with me for some ice cream. That was twenty minutes ago.”
Roxas let out a small huff. “I’m only just now getting around to writing.”
“You’ve been at it all day.” There was a hint of a pout in Axel’s voice, but Roxas chose not to acknowledge it. “Come on, Rox.”
Roxas steadfastly ignored him. He was going to get something down.
“Roxas.” He saw Axel’s hand only a moment before it descended, so when the laptop snapped shut, his fingers escaped unscathed.
Axel, on the other hand, would not be so lucky. He’d already decided. “Axel,” he said evenly. Roxas leveled a glare at him, and let his day’s frustration seep into his next words. “Get. Off.”
Axel met his gaze, one eyebrow raising in a taunt. “Ice. Cream.”
Roxas practically growled.
But Axel was already dancing backwards, laptop held to his chest. By the time Roxas scrambled after him, Axel was already in the kitchen, placing the thing on top of a cabinet, and out of Roxas’s reach.
“Axel, I will fucking kill you, you fucking tall-ass freak.” It was the first, and only warning.
Axel grinned, all teeth. “I love you too, Roxas.”
Roxas threw a punch, but Axel, already expecting it, caught it with a laugh. It turned into a wrestling match, Roxas torn between climbing the counters to retrieve his laptop (Axel grabbed him around the waist and pulled him to the floor), and exacting revenge for the deed, but even this devolved into panted breaths and half-hearted shoves.
Roxas was just congratulating himself on landing at least one good punch, when one of Axel’s bony fingers jabbed him in the ribs. And really, that was all it took to send them both into peals of laughter, because Roxas couldn’t stay mad at Axel for something so trivial, and Roxas’s laugh was contagious.
Roxas caught his breath and smiled down at their tangled limbs. When he looked up, he felt a little younger, happier. “I love you, too, Ax.”
Axel grinned. “So. Ice cream?”
Roxas socked him on the shoulder. “Only if you buy!”